


Breaking Point

by SpicklePock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-15
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/362830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicklePock/pseuds/SpicklePock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark!fic. There is a point where everyone breaks, unfortunately for the Dursley's, Harry has just reached his. Set when Marge visits in POA. <b>Warnings: Child Abuse and Character Deaths.</b> Prompt: Harry Potter, author’s choice, mercy and pity are something he lost while locked in a dark cupboard, bloodied and bruised, from comment_fic on Livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Breaking Point

"You gave the boy Duddykins' second bedroom? Why would you do that for that good for nothing wretch, Vernon?" Petunia cringed as she watched bits of half chewed food fly out of her husband’s sister's mouth. "He doesn't deserve anything better than that cupboard you used to keep him in."

"Well... He got a bit too big to fit in it, Marge." her husband simpered.

"Nonsense!" Marge replied. She waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure it will be perfectly simple to shove _it_ back in there." Petunia watched worriedly as the freak's jaw tensed. He'd better stay in control of himself or it wouldn't just be Vernon that he had to deal with.

Petunia hated the boy, but only because of the fact that he was Lily's son and was a one of 'them'. If he hadn't been, if he had been her son, he would have been a son to be proud of, clever, kind and honest. It just made her hate him more. She may have emotionally mistreated the boy because of it, but she would never lay a physical hand on him. Vernon, on the other hand, delighted in giving the boy an occasional smack to 'show the freak his place'. Petunia never stopped him.

Marge hated the boy too, hated that he was better than her beloved nephew. She believed that beating him would knock the cleverness out of him, that it would make him inferior to Dudley and had been the main reason that encouraged Dudley to bully his cousin. Between her and Vernon, they had made Dudley into a cruel, horrible child. Petunia wasn't blind to this, nor was she blind to her own fault in creating the person her son was, no matter how much she pretended to be unaware of his faults. Still, she would much rather him to a freak.

"You should have left him at an orphanage when you found him on your doorstep, Vernon, or better yet, you should've drowned him like the vermin he is, would have spared everyone the horror of his disgusting self. His parents would have thanked you, even being the good for nothings that they were." Marge's tongue was always loosened by the brandy she insisted on drinking. It invariably showed her spiteful, mean inner self. 

The glass smashed in her hand. Petunia screamed in shock, throwing the boy a glance. Hopefully Marge would shut up now, or there was no knowing what the boy would do if he got too angry.

Petunia watched worriedly as Marge waved the boy over to clean up the glass, degrading and insulting his parents viciously. She could tell that the boy had reached his limit just before he let out an angry yell, correcting what Marge had been saying with the delusions he had been told about his parents. 

Suddenly, Marge's arm swung out, hitting the boy clean across the face and throwing him to the floor.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you filthy, ungrateful brat." The boy started to sit up, hand holding his cheek, but Marge kicked him swiftly in the gut and he fell back down with a gasp.

"Dudley!" Marge called as she turned to her nephew. "Why don't you help me teach this freak a lesson?" Dudley stood up hurriedly, a mean grin stretched across his face as he gleefully agreed to help his Aunt. Together they started hitting and kicking the boy, delighting in his gasps and cries of pain. 

Petunia watched with disturbed worry. She wasn't too pleased with their actions but was also completely unwilling to stop them. Vernon didn't join them, but seemed to share their same sick amusement.

When a stray kick hit the boys head and he passed into unconsciousness, they soon grew bored of beating his motionless body, instead looking on in disgust at the mess of blood on the floor.

They threw the boy’s unconscious body into the cupboard, slamming and locking the door after him. Petunia watched them in a frozen state of shock. 

"Vernon..." she whispered. Her eyes flickered from the cupboard to her husband. "I fear we may have gone too far this time." 

The look in Vernon's eyes told her he felt the same, but he pulled himself up with false bravado. "Don't worry, Pet, it's nothing the freak didn't deserve, isn't that right, Marge?" He turned towards his sister, he had always deferred to her, found it simpler to follow her lead.

"Of course, that and more, we're doing the world a favour by putting that scum in his place." It was times like this that Petunia was very glad that Marge didn't know the whole truth about the boy, if she had, he would most definitely be dead now.

Vernon chuckled weakly. "Yes... More brandy, Marge?"

"Yes, thank you Vernon, I'll have a small glass before bed." Soon after that, they all went upstairs to bed, unaware of the presence that was starting to awaken in the cupboard under the stairs.

\---

With the fierce anger combined with the pain the boy was feeling, the fragment of pure rage and darkness began to stir. It slowly started to reach out, feeding on the anger, being welcomed by it. As it slithered out to approach the subconscious mind, it traced through the memories of its host, consuming them and absorbing the information they provided. As it reached its destination, it had all the information it needed to be able to connect with the subconscious and over power it with black thoughts, filling it with knowledge and unearthing thoughts that would help the fragment bury deeper so it could merge fully with the main soul. 

When finally the merge had completed, green eyes shot open, older and consumed by anger and hate. The boy’s magic rose to the surface, flickering and eager to cause pain and damage. The boy was different, destructive and dangerous. He felt powerful for the first time in his life. He had been unleashed from the cage of fear and the limits of the good, his pure soul had been tainted.

With the added power and memories of the soul piece, he had just enough ability to use his magic with a force designed to harm, to maim the things, the people that had caged and tried to destroy him.

Glancing around in the small dark space of the cupboard, Harry grinned. How very nice of his Uncle to lock him in the cupboard with all his school things. With his magic surrounding him in a detached, pain free bubble, he rummaged through his trunk until he found his prize.

He clasped his wand tightly and whispering the spell he had heard Hermione use in their first year, watched as the door sprung open.

He looked around the dark hallway, taking in the silence of the house. He walked quietly to the stairs, ascending carefully. It wouldn’t do to wake anybody until it was time.

\---

Petunia woke with a start, he eyes immediately locking onto the wild eyes of her nephew. She gasped in fear as she stared into those torturous eyes and she could tell that he was going to kill her, her and everybody else in the house. Mercy and pity are something he lost while locked in a dark cupboard, bloodied and bruised by their hands. They had betrayed the trust of this child and now their actions had come back to be the judge of their demise. Their death would be at the hands of the one they had hurt and abused. Petunia accepted this fact and knew that while they didn’t deserve anything less, she still hated this child with all her being. 

Staring into the eyes of her soon to be murderer Petunia let her hate filter through. It over took her fear and consumed her, ripping through her mind and tearing it to pieces. It was her hate that had made the boy what he was, and so it would be her hate that killed her. The boy amplified it, a blank mask fixed on his face as the emotion exacerbated by magic made his Aunt’s mind explode across the room covering everything but the boy, protected as he was by his magic.

The explosion was enough to wake his Uncle, who started with a sound of shock. He took in his surroundings, not quite understanding what he was seeing until his eyes landed on the boy. His face darkened with anger.

“You! Boy! I am go-“ He was cut off as an invisible force tightened around his throat, cutting off his breath. He made a desperate gurgling sound, hand grasping at his throat, trying to pull away something that wasn’t there. His eyes started to bulge out of his face as he turned and alarming shade of puce. The boy reached out a hand until it was level with his Uncle’s chest and closed his hand into a fist, yanking his arm back towards himself, his Uncle’s heart following in its wake. Vernon let out one last gurgled gasp before falling back onto the bed, dead.

The boy looked at the heart in his hands before savagely ripping it to pieces and throwing them onto the floor to mix with the remains of his Aunt’s brain. He took one last look around the room before he turned and walked out, not once looking back.

He moved to the next door along the hallway, Dudley’s room. He stood over Dudley where he lay on the bed, studying him carefully while he decided how to kill him. He swung his arm through the air above Dudley harmlessly, but something solid impacted with Dudley’s stomach, waking him with a grunt. 

The boy grinned, throwing his fists through the air as hard as he could, his magic impacting with Dudley’s body as he was slowly beaten to death. Once he was silent and limp with death, the boy stopped, panting for breath. That was three down, now only one to go.

He moved to the last occupied room in the hallway and looked into it at the woman who was his so called ‘Aunt’. She was no relation of his, a fact that he was glad of. If his real Aunt hadn’t married that fat pig of a husband, he would never have been forced into association with that... He could not find the words to describe the pure evil, spiteful person that Marge was. The torment she had put him through was beyond comprehension and he wanted her to suffer, terribly. He wanted her to suffer like she had made him suffer his whole life. 

His earliest memories, nay, nightmares, to be truthful, were of Marge and her cruelty. Her and her hateful dog, Ripper, who had been too ill to come on this visit. The boy was of two minds about this fact. He was glad that the dog hadn’t been there to add to the torture, but he also found it unfortunate that it wasn’t there for him to enact his revenge on it like he was with the rest of this abominable family. 

He decided to settle on the former, he might not be alive if the dog had been there to join in on the beating that he had been given after supper.

He walked towards the bed and just let his magic loose. It danced through the air, travelling steadily towards the body of the sleeping woman. When it reached her, it burnt her skin with a fierce pain, burrowing deep into her body, surrounding her inside and out and waking her with the sheer pain that was devouring her.

His magic greedily spread through her, snapping every bone it came across and causing massive welts to appear all over her skin. He stared at her, his rage consuming him, body and soul, watching as the woman shook in fear and pain. Paralysed and broken, he left her to die.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.” He sneered as a paused in the doorway, his back still facing the room. “I’m doing the world a favour, removing your scum from people’s lives.” He completed his exit and stood for a second in the hallway, breathing deeply.

Now, it was time to leave.

\---

He stepped out of the house, pulling his trunk behind him. He looked up and down the street before setting off up the road towards the park. He had to get to London, but he didn’t yet know how.

When he reached the park, he sat on the curb, eyes catching sight of a dog in an alley. The dog soon disappeared around the corner, only to be replaced by a dirty man in ragged clothing.

“Harry?” the man called. “You- Are you hurt? What’s happened?” He approached carefully, eyes taking in the damage done to the boy before him.

The boy looked up at the haggard man. “Don’t worry,” he replied, a savage grin crossed his face. “They’ve all been dealt with.”


	2. Snippets of the Aftermath: Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people over on ff.net asked for more, so more is what they get. I don't know if there will be anymore after this or not, I'll have to see how it goes, no promises.

****

Snippets of the Aftermath: Interlude

 _'They've all been dealt with.'_ The words reverberated around his head. _’All been dealt with.’_ The implications of that sentence running a mantra to compliment. _‘Been dealt with.’_ The image of a boy covered in blood overlaid on top. _’Dealt with.’_ The truth sunk in, realisation of the facts caused his breath to catch in a gasp. Shock was soon to follow. “Harry? What have you done?”

\---

Dumbledore read the newspaper carefully. The atrocious business with Sirius Black was still plastered across the front page. Dumbledore still felt as if he was the one to blame for the mess that that situation had become. For two of the Potter’s close friends to turn dark the way they had was terrible. He had felt shock that sweet Peter could betray his friends to the dark, but for Sirius to then murder him? Even with the betrayal, his murder and the murder of 17 innocent muggles on top of that was unforgiveable, still _is_ unforgiveable. It was this opinion that had kept his tongue silent of the fact that Sirius hadn’t actually been the Potter’s secret keeper. A murderer deserved to be in Azkaban as much as the betrayer did, if he had still lived.

With all this going on, he had decided it would be safer to have Lupin come and teach at the school this year. He would be close enough to keep an eye on, but Dumbledore should still be able to keep him at a reasonable distance, all while making it seem as if he was doing it to support him through a difficult time. 

All these years, he had kept a close eye on the wolf, just in case he had fallen to the dark too and being what he was, it was a very real possibility if he had the wrong influences manipulating him for their gain, it wouldn’t be the first time a werewolf had turned rogue because they had been vulnerable to the pressure applied by a commanding character. 

Hopefully, the example of his old ‘friend’ would stop him from straying from the right path. If he found out the fact that it had been a revenge killing of the real traitor, Dumbledore was sure he would have no qualms forgiving Black. He was determined that this information would never come to light.

The only solution he could come he could see solving this problem, was to find Black and kill him. Kill him before he had a chance to spread any lies and influence any of the gullible. Before he could get to Harry. It was at that point that the alarms informing him of the wards that were surrounding the Dursley’s, had fallen.

Devastated anger ignited, roaring through him as a sick feeling settled in his stomach. “It seems I am too late.”

\---

“Who are you?”

“Who am I? That isn’t really what is important at the moment!” the man snapped. He ran an agitated hand through his scraggly hair, pacing stiffly in front of the boy, burning with restlessness.

“Yes it is.” Harry answered simply.

“No it is not!” Harry continued to watch him steadily. Finally the man sighed, drawing to a standstill before the boy, once again.

“Sirius...” he trailed off, waiting for any reaction to tell him whether or not Harry had been told the details of his parent’s deaths. The only reaction Harry gave was a sharpened gaze, eyes tracing the man calculatingly.

“Black. Sirius Black, I know of you.” Sirius looked away from the piercing stare, ashamed. “The decoy.” Sirius’s eyes snapped back to the boy, wide eyes betraying his shock. “Can you get me away from here?” Harry continued.

Sirius floundered, a disbelieving look locked on the boy standing in front of him calmly, meeting his gaze with an even stare. The confused word rebounding around his head burst from his lips before he could even register he was speaking. “What?”

“Can you? I will explain everything to you if you just get me away from here.” Harry asked again, raising an impatient brow.

“Get you away? I- Yes.” Sirius said, his decision made as he gave Harry a firm nod of acknowledgement. 

\---

Dumbledore contacted his deputy quickly, telling her to inform the Aurors that the wards of Potter’s residence had fallen before calling to Fawkes to take him directly to the house. He arrived in the dark living room. The silence of the house disturbed him. A shiver ran down his spine.

He moved up the stairs, taking in each room with growing alarm. He finally got to Potter’s room; eyes’ closing in temporary relief, the boy wasn’t there. Worry soon emerged as he glanced around, had the boy managed to get away or had Black taken him? He walked back down the hallway, glancing into the rooms occupied by the mutilated dead, looking for any clues as to the where abouts of the boy. Horrified disgust soon filled him, warring with the worry, for the majority of his attention. It soon won as he looked at the Dursley son. He had known that Black was cruel and heartless, he had also guessed that he would be insane from the amount of time spent in Azkaban, but to do this? This was on an entirely different level of evil, to murder these people in such a way, people who were complete innocents in this whole mess, it was inconceivable.

Making his way back downstairs, his eyes caught on the open cupboard. He looked inside warily, it was empty. The boy’s things were gone. Maybe there was a slight bit of hope to be gleaned from this situation, after all.

When the Aurors finally arrived, followed closely by Minerva and the Minister, Dumbledore knew exactly what he was going to tell them. It was time for them to up the anté and really start putting all their attention into finding Black, for everyone’s safety, but most especially for the poor boy that could be in the insane murderer’s grasp.

“Albus? What happened here?” the Minister asked as he approached.

“Sirius Black.” The simple statement drew everybody’s eyes, silence consumed them until Dumbledore continued, “he found him.”


	3. Filling in the Blanks: Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, a mix between lack of time, illness and writers block are the main reasons this took so long, but I got it done eventually. I’m looking for a beta, if anyone is interested. I would like someone who would be willing to help me with the other fandom’s I write in too (namely BBC Sherlock and Doctor Who), so if anyone is willing, please send me a PM or something, thanks. :)

"This was my parents’ house; we should be safe here for a while. Everyone knows how much I hate this place, they won't look for me here first, but I imagine that they will think to look here soon enough." Harry glanced over the house with interest. It was definitely not what he had expected the Ancient Black house to look like. He turned back to Sirius.

"I have some blank points, I need you to fill them in for me," he demanded calmly.

"I thought you were going to explain what happened?"

"I will, after you tell me what I need to know." The look in Harry's eyes told Sirius that, if his answers weren't satisfactory, Harry wouldn't be explaining anything. 

“You are not what I expected...” he murmured. Harry shot him a dark look that caused him to flinch. “What do you want to know?” he continued hurriedly. Harry didn’t reply so, with a motion of his head to direct Harry to follow him, he walked up the steps to the front door. He tapped his wand against it sharply, the lock clicked and the door swung inwards with an accompaniment of the complaining screech of unused hinges. Harry followed him silently until the door was closed firmly behind them.

“I would have thought a house like this would have more protections than that.” Harry commented.

“It does,” Sirius replied, relieved by the simple question to distract his mind from the thought of the more difficult subjects to come. “It recognises my magic, as I am the now the Lord of the family and therefore the house, my wand can override the enchantments, but it will only work if I’m the one doing it, no random wizard could just pick up my wand and open the door.” he explained.

“Ah, so only your magic connecting to your wand through you holding it, will unlock the door.” Harry summed up the explanation so he would be able to recall it with more ease later on when he went through all the information he hoped to learn today.

“Exactly,” Sirius smiled, ”unless someone is keyed into the wards, then they can open it too, but I have to be the one to key them in. Even so, as you may have guessed, there are other ways to break through the wards by, quite literally, breaking them and while that would take a lot of strength and knowledge, Dumbledore possesses them both, and he has many people on his side who would be only too eager to help him.”

“Dumbledore... Yes. We have to avoid him at all costs.”

Sirius studied him carefully before nodding in agreement. “At all costs, right.” 

Sirius had realised that something was not quite right about Harry. His eyes were too old, too knowledgeable for a boy of thirteen. Sirius knew that he had two choices, to trust him or to abandon him. No matter what had happened, what had affected the boy, he could never abandon him, first because he was Sirius’s best friend’s son, and he would never abandon his child and second because this was his godson. Harry should have been his responsibility after James and Lily’s deaths, but Sirius had chosen revenge over his duty and he would never forgive himself for that.

After warning Harry to be quiet, Sirius moved down the hallway in near silence so as not to wake up the dreadful portrait of his mother. Harry complied, wary but willing to follow Sirius and abide by his caution. Once they had reached the kitchen, Sirius gave a sigh of relief. At Harry’s questioning look, he explained.

“My mother had an awful painting commissioned some years ago that was put in the hallway so that she could ‘watch over the house’ once she was dead. I believe that she only wanted it there so she could shout abuse at everyone and everything that walked past her. She was always so very vocal and my guess is that it was the best way for her disgusting opinions to be heard and known by all who enter this god forsaken house. Soon after she died I had the curtains put up to join her. Thankfully, she is silent in sleep when they are shut, unless a loud noise wakes her, then the curtains fly open for more of her abuse to spill out.”

“I will try my best to not disturb her sleep, then.” Harry replied. He walked around the room, a look of disgust twisting his face at the amount of dirt and dust covering everything.

“Kreacher should have kept it clean while it was empty, but he has always been useless.” Sirius explained.

“Kreacher?”

“The house elf.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Ancient purebloods like the Black’s would almost certainly have at least one elf around the house. But why doesn’t he clean?”

Sirius shrugged dismissively. “You’re very articulate for a boy of thirteen,” he said instead.

Harry shot him another dark look, but replied. “I’ve had access to a lot of... information that widened my views and education.”

“Information?” Harry turned away pointedly. Sirius sighed but decided it would be better not to push for answers that Harry was unwilling to give.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Kreacher?” Sirius waited for a few seconds, “Kreacher!” The house elf didn’t appear. With another sigh, Sirius pulled out his wand and cleaned up the kitchen area of most of the dust with a few flicks and jabs. He prepared the tea quickly and settled down at the table after a few more spells that cleaned that too. He waved Harry to the seat opposite and poured the tea. “Help yourself to milk and sugar.”

The both drank their tea silently until Harry set his cup on the table purposely. Sirius copied him deliberately, nervously waiting for the questions to start.

“Why does the elf not come when you call?” Harry started. Sirius sighed in relief, glad Harry was starting with easy questions. Easy questions he could deal with.

“Because I ‘betrayed’ my family. According to my mother, I am a filthy blood traitor. Kreacher worships my mother, even now that she is dead, so he thinks that too.”

“He worships a portrait?”

“He joined her in her insanity too, quite like a lot of my family now that I think about it.” Sirius replied musingly.

“Where have you been?” Sirius sucked in a harsh breath, it seemed now was the time for the more difficult questions to begin.

Exhaling slowly, Sirius started to attempt an answer. “I have been- I-“ He took a steadying breath. He had hoped it would be easier to just say it outright but was surprised at how difficult he was finding it. “I was in the wizard prison, Azkaban.” he finally managed to say.

Harry’s brow furrowed with confusion. “Prison? Why?”

Sirius frowned at him, equally confused. “I thought...? How much do you know? No, wait, it doesn’t matter. I will just start from the beginning.” He took a few minutes to prepare himself. Harry waited patiently. When he felt he was as ready as possible, he began his story. “Dumbledore went to your parents and told them you could be in danger, something about a prophecy that was either about you or the Longbottom’s son. He suggested that they put their house under a spell called the Fidelius charm. This would make their house impossible to find unless the Secret Keeper- the only person who knows their location, tells the secret.” Harry nodded, he knew most of this bit from the fragment.

“James wanted me to be the Secret Keeper, but I thought it would make them safer if I just acted as the decoy and have Pettigrew-“ Sirius spat out the traitor’s name with an angry snarl. He paused to regain himself before continuing, “as the real Secret Keeper. After I’d convinced them this was the best idea, Dumbledore cast the spell with Pettigrew instead of me.” Here, Sirius stopped once again and looked down at his hands in shame.

“If I hadn’t convinced them, I could have stopped all of this from happening, but I was stupid, young and impulsive. I thought my idea was perfect, foolproof, but I was so completely wrong!” he swallowed heavily.

Harry watched him carefully. “Please, continue.” He pushed gently.

Sirius tried, unsuccessfully, to offer him a smile before doing as he asked. “Everything seemed fine, I believed that I had made a good decision and all of you were safe. I didn’t suspect anything, didn’t realise how wrong I had got it until the evidence was right in front of my face. I’d gone to check on him, but he had disappeared. There was no sign of a struggle and something didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to believe it, but when I arrived at the house and-“ He hunched into himself, continuing at a whisper. “When I saw it, I knew. I met Hagrid outside, he had you, he said he was taking you somewhere safe. I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry nodded his acknowledgement but was impatient for him to finish. 

“I let Hagrid take you and went after Pettigrew. I found him and cornered him. He blew up the street, killing a dozen muggles and cut off his own finger so he could fake his own death, transforming into a rat and disappearing into the sewers before I could curse him. The Aurors found me soon after. Everyone had already decided my guilt was absolute so I was chucked into Azkaban with no trial and there I stayed for 12 years, waiting.”

They sat in silence as Harry digested all that Sirius had told him. “Waiting? What for?”

“For the right time to escape. I knew I needed to be punished for what I did, that is why I stayed in there but when I saw the picture of Pettigrew in the paper, I knew that it was time to get out.”

Harry looked at him with a blank mask and Sirius flinched at the guilt it caused. “I thought you were being looked after, that you were safe, happy...” he tried to explain. Harry just waved him away impatiently.

“So Dumbledore knew you weren’t the secret keeper. Why, then, were you blamed?”

“Yes. Yes... he did...” he trailed off as a new thought sunk into his mind. How had that connection never occurred to him before? Dumbledore had known, but still left him to rot in that hell hole.

“Then why-?” Harry started to ask again but Sirius cut him off as his anger fired through him.

“I don’t know, but I will find out.” He vowed. He stood up angrily and stormed out of the room. 

Harry watched him go with a smirk. It was starting.


End file.
